The Uprising
by Colorado Kid
Summary: Shortly after the first Gremlins....human error results in mayhem...Chapter 5 slowly brewing...
1. Dawning of the Unholy

The Uprising  
  
**PG-13 for blood, violence and gore. The author secretly wishes this to be, spiritually, the sequel to the first film, on account of the actual sequel bombing like here was no tomorrow.  
  
**Gremlins is owned by Amblin, not me. I'm not in this for the green, just for fun. Any attempts to plagiarize and I'll make you watch the actual Gremlins II.  
  
**"I Want A New Drug" is done by Huey Lewis and the News, I do not own the song, I did not write any of the lyrics.  
  
**Chili Con Carne is the product of Anders Edenroth. © 1997 Should it require deletion, please notify me  
  
©2004 Blanca  
  
Dawning of The Unholy.  
  
River Falls, Minnesota, 1987. Two years. Billy could not believe it had been that long since that fateful Christmas night he'd endured. He swore it  
  
was only yesterday....  
  
Summertime. River Falls was filled with the luscious symphony of summer barbeques, lemonade stands. Sprinklers and kids running through them, laughing...banana popsicles, Beach Boys perfuming the air with harmonies galore.  
  
Ball Park franks and beer and laughter of so many kinds of people...shopping, hustle and bustle, some headed for Disneyland or Hyland Hills Water World, gasoline and roars eagerly scenting the air....  
  
And Billy and his beloved wife, Kate, working as Sheriff and deputy-and husband and wife--in the River Falls Sheriff's department. Peace was abundant in the town...Billy nevertheless remembered...  
  
The dismemberment...the assault....the perverse, sick pleasure behind so many murders...done in so many creative ways by those who were under the impression they were comedians, simply comedians having fun somehow. How could any human believe what they believed? The abominable ways they caused death and destruction...but that was just it. They weren't homo sapien.  
  
They were animal. Reptillion. Of spine and scale, ear and webbed foot, fang  
  
and red eye.  
  
Mogwai.  
  
How he wished he could have done something to prevent the wanton, twisted destruction, but how could he? Ever since that Gizmo came into his life. Gizmo. The pure unpoluted Mogwai. Innocent. Fuzzy. Soft. Full of song, life and love and no else. The kind of Mogwai you didn't feed after midnight.  
  
*You never fed them after midnight*, he thought.  
  
"Goodness sake, Billy, you're going to give yourself a headache, all deeply lined with thought. Look at your brows, your dark circles, goodness sake!"Kate said as she brought coffee.  
  
Billy sighed. "Thank God at least humankind has sprouted again...since..."  
  
"Since when?" she asked.  
  
But they both knew, Kate in only two seconds flat...  
  
"Look, Billy, it's not going to happen again, we both know that."  
  
Chinatown, not too farway, another chiantown proudly and unapologetically built somewhere in downtown Minneapolis. A store with a cheerful old man meditiating in the back, the place filled with dragons, sandalwood incense, moving waterfall pictures, fountains, jewels, so many different kinds of incense sticks...chinese weaponry in its beautiful glory, bells, lucky cats, chinese silk and satin, soap of so many exotic kinds, spices, nuts, talcs, perfumes, fine oils...  
  
Somewhere in a dark nook emanated beautiful song of a purity most people only dream of encasing in their hearts. A wordless tune of a sleeping being. In a dream of purity, what some known Gods lurking about in innumerable print called paradise. The dream this time, was the vision of the Christian God and his son, Jesus.  
  
Gold everywhere. Henna and nard, nard and saffron, a grove of nut trees, Lilies, cedar, apple trees, raisins, ivory, silk, purple and scarlet, music of every nation in perfect song...oak and almond trees, cherry trees, pecan trees, the smell of pecan wood roasting in grills, cooking fine feasts...prime rib, pot roast, quail and pheasant...  
  
A roar of water in the distance....or was it water....? Even more distant...screams of anguish...the screams began to build...build stronger...stronger....stronger....the water began to roar louder and louder, but it was not water...it was blood, the blood of many, to many....  
  
The people in the dream ran screaming as did the abundance of animals....the blood flooded the paradise...the sky went black as sackcloth...locusts filled the sky...  
  
Only one word fell out of the lips of the dreamer's mouth, fell in  
  
terrified screams.  
  
"Mogwai! Mogwai! MOGWAI! MOGWAI! MOOOOOOGGGWAAAAAI!!!!!!"  
  
The man's hands reached into the dark nook to wake the dreamer, talking in  
  
warm Chinese. "Gizmo! Gizmo! Please wake up! Oh, you and your silly nightmares!"  
  
The trembling animal was still chilled to the bone marrow, crying "Mogwai! Mogwai! MOOOOOOOOOGWAAAAAAAAI!!!!!"  
  
"Gizmo, Gizmo, friend.....shhhhh....you're here now in the awake world,  
  
your nightmare is over...."  
  
Gizmo caught his breath...the man's hands caring for his small, innocent soul encased in brown and white fur... 


	2. The Blackness Spreads

The Blackness Spreads.  
  
Billy and Kate were holding the town's annual chili cook off. It was lunchtime, and the air in the town square was full of the perfume of fine roasted beef, onions, ripe tomatoes, paprika, chili powder, pink pepper, white pepper, vodka, merlot, jalapeno peppers, kidney beans, chili beans.  
  
The air was filled with music:  
  
"Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Con Con Carne Con Chili Con Carne, Ah-ha, let's make  
  
Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili Con Carne, Chili  
  
Con Con Con Carne, Con Chili Con Carne Ah-ha that's good!  
  
Mix the onions nice and slowly, to prevent a stomchache, crisp tortiilas on  
  
your plate will sound so nicely when they break,  
  
When your mouth gets full of fire, you may need something to drink, one or two or three or four or seven beers will be enough.."  
  
Beer aplenty was drunken gaily out of wooden barrels, Budweiser had sponsored the cookofff since 1975. Shouts and whoops of joy, simmering, steaming pots with steam afloat..  
  
How could it get any better than this? Suddenly, amdist the gaily waltzing symphony of music, spices and madness, a fart was heard, pratically in Billy's ear..  
  
"Blast it, Malaiko, if you do that again!"  
  
Malaiko Sum Dow was an immigrant from Thailand. Known for beating up anyone virtuous he ever came across in town, he was urine and methane, stickiness and hairiness, booze.  
  
No one knew why. He ran away before Billy could catch him, laughing. "Never  
  
mind him" Kate giggled. "He won't bother us on occaisions like this."  
  
Billy, however, saw something with his spirit..the future? A forewarning? All he saw was the city in the film The Ten Commandments.in all its immoral, wanton, lusty glory, yet much more graphic and uncensored by the film world. Yet not specific beings.were they even human in the slightest sense? Images of the actions. Lustful wantonness, hedonistic drunkenness on brandy, wine, champagne, feasting on pomgranates, mangos, and cashews...incest, sexual immorality, violence, looting, piracy. and in the distance... A roar of a large.... reptillion... Mogwai..  
  
He tried to shake it off.  
  
When **did** one feed a mogwai again, when the post-midnight hours were long gone? When the sun rose, perhaps? At the first sign of the sun? A question unknown for the longest time...a question long unanswered...  
  
Chinatown. The mogwai was still sitting.he dared not remember his dream. Suddenly, several drk figures entered the store.the mogwai peered out of  
  
the darkness.  
  
"Hello?" said the old man?  
  
Shotgun blasts boomed through, crowbars smashing vulnerable finery to pieces.  
  
"Give us the mogwai, pal."  
  
"No! No! What is mogwai?"  
  
"Give us the freakin' mogwai!"  
  
"No!"  
  
The mogwai had witnessed it all. "Mogwai! Mogwai! Mogwai!"  
  
"Give us the mogwai, pal, or we'll blow your balls off!"  
  
"I do not know meaning of word 'mogwai'!"  
  
A shotgun blast.  
  
"Mogwai! Mogwai! Mogwai!"  
  
It was too late. In all his fright, his sound had located him.  
  
Before he knew it, he was in a black sack in the trunk of what sounded like a '66 Stingray.Gizmo knew about these kinds of things from who entered the shop day in and day out. '66 Stingray, copper color, 50 horse power engine, double pipes, racing mags, whitewall slicks.  
  
About five men, from the way it sounded.  
  
"He'll be a good sale. He's in demand in the underworld."  
  
"He's in demand everywhere, ever since that Christmas thing in that sorry- ass small town."  
  
"Man, when the greenies tore it up."  
  
"I don't want to be responsible as the guy who unleashed greenies again, those things kill kids, man! If this thing goes to some moron who splashes stuff on it, feeds it after midnight."  
  
"Who cares? So long as we got the twenty kilos of cocaine and are living in Tahiti, I could not possibly care less if freakin' Minnesota's leveled to the ground!"  
  
Gizmo knew what was going on. They were going to sell him for cocaine. 


	3. When The Sun Sets

When The Sun Sets....  
  
Gizmo, in the midst of the horror, remembered suddenly one vital thing..all mogwai are equipped with razor sharp claws. The sack was mere cotton cloth, how could it keep him in?  
  
While the thieves bragged of their lusty plan to do with cocaine as they pleased, Gizmo boldly tore out of the bag, and emerged into the midst of the trunk. He searched immediately for a way out. There was no time to lament about the old man, the only thing that mattered now was his own escape and safety. He searched the trunk, looking for equipment of some sort, the old man told him there was always some sort of equipment in the back pouch of a human's tough-skinned riding beast, he'd always been curious about those little things. It was dark, he used his sense of touch. He felt around...something square....with a latch, a first aid kit for humans... Something round and huge, with a very intricate padding, thick, tough and pliable, a spare foot for the amazing beast, no doubt. Something long and thick and round, with a switch...obviously not exactly his cup of tea..but just enough good for him to see.....  
  
"Bright light!" he announced with relief.  
  
He switched on the flashlight. He illuminated the dark trunk. The thieves still sang gaily of their praises of their plunderous activity they were about to commit. He searched the back pouch of the riding beast....finally, at last, he found something that the old man told him could open anything....a crowbar! At last.  
  
Boldly, the mogwai gathered his strength, he pulled the crowbar's flat side to him, and the hook side to the lid of the trunk. He couldn't exactly hold the other side to the lid, he certainly was too small....he immediately though quick..remembering all he had seen with the flashlight....he pushed the first aid kit in front of the lid....then a stolen box of jewels, lightweight enough to lift, that he'd found awhile ago...atop the first aid kit....then another on top....then...with one heave, the hook side of the crowbar was on top. With another heave and all the courage he could give, Gizmo popped the trunk open. He boldly flew out, even in the bright light of the day, which could kill a mogwai. He shut his eyes tight. He knew he had to find a dark place, somehow...quickly.  
  
Keeping his eyes shut, he feel himself rolling away on rough, hot, hard asphalt, using his touch sense. He felt himself rolling down a majestic hill of cool green grass, then dandelions...he smelled the scent of fresh clover....then felt himself hit solid ground. One open of his eye and it would all be over, he had no choice but to use only his sense of touch.  
  
He scampered on all fours across the grass...then hit something wooden...what could it be? Then he heard the sound of another beast roar by, with humans inside (and mysteriously surviving) the beast's digestive pouch, its majestic stomach, chattering of Disney World....and the magic music player inside the beasts stomach jabbering, somehow, about a place called River Falls...River Falls! He remembered how he once had a home in River Falls....a home to call his own......  
  
Memories came back to Gizmo's mind.....in images...a kind human boy named Billy....his wonderful friends....how Billy adored him....how he sang for Billy and his warm family......how they rejoiced at him being around....a kind human girl at his side.....a warm, wondrous home....Billy! A long time ago, his father had found him in the same Chinatown shop that Christmas so many years ago, but the old man insisted he was not for sale. His grandson found the other man and rebelliously gave the mogwai to him even though the old man insisted, "With mogwai comes much responsibility!" The man was told there was always things you never did with mogwai. Bright light would harm them, sunshine would kill them. You never got them wet, and of course...  
  
The most forbidden rule, the one Gizmo knew all too well...  
  
You never fed them after midnight.  
  
He even remembered Billy's address. He did remember how Billy loved him...  
  
"Billy!"  
  
He bravely scampered forward, not knowing what else to do.....  
  
He heard bushes in the distance, thanks to the wind...  
  
"Shade!" he announced.  
  
He scurried underneath the bushes, then finally opened his eyes at last.  
  
He noticed he was right at the entrance to River Falls. He knew he would be sfae, somehow, with Billy, his special friend. He decided to wait until the sun set. Then he would find his way blind----he had the ability to remember each street, each avenue, each corridor, each cul-de-sac, each road of River Falls...he could find his way....he could find his way to Billy's place....couldn't he?  
  
As he waited patiently under the bushes----blackberry, sufficient food until he found his special friend----thoughts crossed his mind of what else happened while he was there...  
  
Something dark....something bone-chilling....  
  
A laugh from what seemed to be an oriental boy of about fourteen in the distance added to the warning.... But Gizmo simply ignored it and sang that song he sung in that dream he had once again, focusing on Billy...  
  
Somwhere, in Chinatown...a figure lie bleeding, losing so much blood...he was still wearing that jade green Chinese men's outfit he wore when they robbed him..complete with matching hat..his flesh was inanimate, his soul was not.  
  
It saw horrific visions...millions of men of so many different kinds..a mad stampede...spilling in to his store, the force literally sweeping him off his feet...looting, pillaging...they found a pure white star in the mogwai area....one thief, a bandit of the old west, it seemed, snatched the star and put it in a sack, carrying it off...they raced all across the land, some on foot, some by horse, at a rabid pace, chanting "Money, money, money"..  
  
Snowy cocaine exploded from their very souls like fireworks as they went along, the star as its hostage..."Money, money, money," they chanted with a lusty greediness...his heart told him they seemed to be ancestry of someone's, ancestry who liked to shed blood with ecstacy and exuberance... pirate ancestry, that of the gangs of New York of the 1800's, bandits of old who burned down ranches, stole cattle, horses and sheep, raped wives, daughters, sisters and even little girls no more than four, and stole milk and eggs and precious meat, all in the midst of 1870's Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, California, Nevada, North Dakota and South Dakota... even blood shedding Vikings straight from the hearts of ancient Norway and Sweden.  
  
The men raced furiously, a mighty torrent, past the hills and medows and fields of Minnesota, past the green and wilderness and ranches, past a place familiar to the sleeping figure....  
  
River Falls....  
  
The star somehow tore out of the bandit's sack, then flew away and inside the midst of the entrance..disappeared into the street, the houses and gardens....  
  
One of the man's stark white, long fingernails....blood-stained indeed....began to twitch....his brown eye and blue eye flashed open.  
  
Gizmo, he thought, where are you? 


	4. Opening Night

Opening Night  
  
The sun was slowly setting, much to Gizmo's relief. The colors of the majestic sky changed from warm gold to chianti red to rich blackberry..slowly the studs in the velvet black dress of night emerged, waiting for Gizmo to come out into safety...  
  
He peered out ecstatically from the greenery with a smile. "Billy!" he rejoiced, his delicious voice echoing into the night. He rushed out to the home he once knew, the home so long ago, filled with warmth and wonder and human fascination beyond anything he'd ever imagined. He hurried down the streets, with his memory as his navigator. "Billy!" he exclaimed joyously. He hurried to the abode he cherished so long ago...to find it dark....unilluminated..cold....immobile...  
  
An eager, restless tappity-tappity on the bottom of the colossal wooden door. "Billy? Billy?" No answer. He frowned. "Billy?" He hurried to the nearby window. "Billy?" Darkness inside, a few cobwebs, no furniture according to the moonlight, not a single inch of light or lamp or television, nor any wondrous, whimsical, curious invention of Billy's fathers... surely Billy must still be there...? He was the only hope Gizmo had. "Billy?" He hurried to each window on the bottom floor, but saw only the same emptiness with the moonlight's lament accompanying. "Billy?" he frowned, tears beginning to well. He climbed up the drainpipe and slowly, cautiously made his way around. "Billy?" he asked as he gazed longingly into each room. He only saw the same moon-illuminated emptiness. The laughter of a teenage boy was bounding gaily off in the distance, with a strange perverseness that made Gizmo's skin crawl, for a reason he couldn't make out.  
  
The woof-woof wasn't their either. Where was the eager, warm woof-woof? He had managed to head for the balcony atop the backyard. Alas, it too was empty.  
  
Billy was cruising along in his patrol car, making his evening rounds. He passed by his parent's house where he lived before he and Kate wed two years later, making their own home in a small house that was made for rent by an old couple who were moving into Miami Beach. He had wonderful memories there...suddenly, images flew through his mind, images he never wanted too see again...images of assault..images of death and near death...scaly, reptillion images. A friend of his, Pete, now working for a science lab in Wisconsin, accidentally tossing water on Gizmo two years before...Gizmo wailing in pain as he writhed about in the same home..the tiny droplets on his torso heaving forth as five round little balls of fur that swelled...swelled..grew..into five reproductions of Gizmo, but only in the physical sense.... mayhem that proceeded shortly afterwards, a vulgar, preadolescent sort of mayhem...  
  
He tried not to remember....he tried to make forgetfulness a treasure from the Lord himself in his mind.  
  
He couldn't help but notice a strange yet familiar treasure clinging to the balcony out front. He looked closer....could it be? No, it couldn't possibly...could it? He heard it sobbing and his heart instinctively broke. But he couldn't put his finger on how it could happen...then he drove further, looked closer...it couldn't be! It was!  
  
"Gizmo!"  
  
He honked the horn.  
  
"Hey, Gizmo!" he called out as he rolled down the window. "It's me, Billy!"  
  
Gizmo turned and saw. His face illuminated. "Billy!"  
  
He plummeted to the bottom in the midst of his rapture and playfully thumped into the bushes, planted in front a year after he had first departed from Billy.  
  
"Oh, Gizmo!" Billy laughed, emerging from the car to greet him.  
  
A warm embrace as he recued him from the bushes. "Gizmo? How in the world did you get all the way back here?"  
  
"Billy!" he hugged Billy warmly.  
  
"Oh, Gizmo! I missed you so much!"  
  
Gizmo looked at the abandoned house. He was shocked.  
  
Billy laughed "Oh, don't worry, Gizmo. I just moved into a house of my own. Mom and Dad moved."  
  
His mother and father had eventually made a fortune off of his once easily- faulty inventions. They had decided to retire and move to Miami after Billy and Kate got married.  
  
They had also taken the dog, Barney, with them.  
  
"Come with me, Gizmo. You'll like my new house."  
  
Gizmo eyed Billy's new apparel, along with his pistol. "Ooooooh, bang- bang."  
  
"Yeah, Billy's got a bang-bang now! Cool, huh?"  
  
Gizmo reached for the pistol..  
  
"No touchie the bang-bang!" Billy laughed.  
  
He headed for he and Kate's house thirteen blocks away. Kate and he had manged to revamp the Victorian look and feel to a modern yet lived in look of the decade.  
  
"Ooooh! House!"  
  
Billy pulled a pair of his shades out for Gizmo to put on. "Watch out for bright light!" he laughed.  
  
"Oooooooh...bright light.." Gizmo slipped on the shades.  
  
They entered the home. Billy took him on a brief tour...then sat him down in the kitchen on a countertop with a glass of milk and Oreos. He deicded to phone Kate.  
  
"Kate, you'll never guess who's here!"  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Listen..."  
  
He pointed the phone towrd Gizmo..."Hey Gizmo, want to say hi to Kate?"  
  
"Oooooooh, talk-talk, Kate listen..oooooh Kate not home? Where are you, Kate? Kate come home!"  
  
Kate giggled. "Gizmo?"  
  
"Yeah, Gizmo came back, Kate! Isn't it wonderful?"  
  
"Oh, I'm so excited! I missed him so badly! Oh, I can't wait to see him again!" she hopped into her patrol car, eager to see Gizmo once more. 


	5. Gizmo Settles In

Gizmo Settles In  
  
Kate hurried into her home, panting with fervor.......she was simply tingling at the thought of seeing Gizmo again. There he was, sitting there......with her husband's arms around him as he munched away at his Oreo cookies. She wished she had a picture. "I'll go get my Kodak! Oh, I've just gotta get my Kodak!"  
  
Billy wasn't able to hear at the moment. He was enthralled with Gizmo's return. Then something came to him as she returned. What did she say? Kodak....?  
  
"No! Kate, don't!...."  
  
She flashed it right in their face.  
  
"Oh, no....I forgot......bright light!"  
  
But Gizmo only giggled. Both forgot he had been wearing Billy's police glasses.  
  
"How in the world did you get back to us anway, Gizmo?"  
  
"Where did you find him?"  
  
"Hanging about the drainpipe of our old house. He thought I'd just up and left and never could be seen again. He looked so lost, lonely and scared when I found him.....he was so happy to see me....."  
  
"How did he find his way back from Chinatown? How did he get here?"  
  
Gizmo, of course, couldn't say anything much.....  
  
A wind suddenly blew in through the windows.......a wind mysteriously foul.....smelling of prepubescent immorality and gaiety, crime, blood, mildew, darkness, chasms, wantonness, lust, gluttony....plunder.....the cold smell of the flesh of frogs, frogs emerging from mud and muck after a rain....  
  
Kate hurried to shut the windows.  
  
She swore she heard a gunshot in the air.....  
  
"I say we celebrate! Hon, pop in some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and I'll slice up the Ball Park Franks and grill em.....we'll have a special night tonight! Gizmo's back."  
  
"I'll make a spinach salad....." he continued. "Broccoli, tomatoes......"  
  
He enthusiastically popped in a Huey Lewis and the News tape on a tape playing stereo nearby. The silver musicmaker began to sing.....  
  
"I want a new drug One that won't make me sick One that won't make me crash my car Or make me feel three feet thick... 


End file.
